All I Want for Christmas
by xGlass
Summary: America has a special Christmas wish. Santa delivers. SwedenxAmericaxFinland.


**All I want for Christmas is a Threesome**

America has a special Christmas wish. Santa delivers.

I don't own Hetalia.

* * *

><p>America eyed his finished stack of Christmas card with… not <em>trepidation<em>, exactly, but there was one particular card in the pile that America knew may possibly not go over quite so well.

He felt kind of grown up, acknowledging that maybe he was making a mistake. But not so grown up as to not do it, after all. As Yoda would say, "Do, or do not. There is no try." Aliens were just fucking wise. So America was _doing! _Fuck yeah!

He grabbed his stamps (they had _American flags_, of course) and went ahead and began to seal his envelopes.

America arrived at the final card and grinned.

_To Santa. _He wrote on the outside of the card. _From America._

* * *

><p>Finland stared. He <em>stared<em>. And he _blushed. _His jaw dropped and he just gaped at the letter in his hands.

It wasn't an unusual letter in and of itself—almost all the countries sent him Santa letters at this time of the year. And sometimes in the past Finland had gotten outlandish requests, but this one took first prize.

Finland dropped the letter to the ground. Perhaps he had simply read it wrong. So he bent down and timidly flipped the letter over.

No, he'd read it correctly. Unfortunately.

Finland let out a heavy—and I mean a heavy—sigh of frustration.

_Dear Santa,_

_For Christmas I'd like to have a sexy threesome with Finland and Sweden. Particularly, I'd like to bang Finland while Sweden bangs me. That sounds fucking hot, right? Nordic sandwich! _

_Love, America _

What… I mean, what…? How do you _respond_ to that?

And America _knew_ he was writing to Finland, and he still chose to phrase his letter like that? So boldly?

Finland sighed.

He'd never turned down one of the nation's requests in the past. Finland didn't really want to, but this sort of gift was kind of ridiculously personal.

And would Sve be okay with it? Finland bit his lip and let his eyes close so he could_ think. _

Sve could be really possessive sometimes. Not in a bad, dominating kind of way, but Finland wasn't sure if he wanted to even put Sve in that sort of position.

Would Sve lie and say it was okay but really be hurt? Would Sve say no, and Finland wouldn't feel bad if he said no or anything, but the more he thought about America's request the… the _hotter_ it was. He and Sve had never been a part of a threesome before. They'd always kept their sex life between the two of them.

And Finland didn't think that was a bad thing! It was special. He loved Sweden and having sex with Sve was really fucking _fantastic_ and while they didn't need a third party it might add a really interesting dynamic and _fuck_. Finland kind of wanted it now. The damn idea was stuck in his head.

Not that sex with Sweden wasn't enough because it was! Trust him, Sweden was very well equipped—_endowed fuckfuckfuck dirty mind, Fin, out of the gutter_—for any sort of sexual activity Finland might choose.

But god _damn_. Now Finland wanted to have a threesome. With America. Fuck it all.

And then Sweden walked into the room. _Fuckfuckfuck. _

Finland shuffled awkwardly, laughing sharply and adding America's Santa letter to the stack he'd already accumulated.

Sweden raised a brow. "What's wrong."

"Um. Nothing, Sve. Just, um, a letter." Finland tilted his head in the direction of the desk. "Got one. A Santa one. From a nation, you know, because they sometimes send me letters because it's Christmastime and er…"

"You're babbling. You're nervous." Sweden sat his book down, and turned towards Finland. "Why are you nervous?"

"I'm not nervous!" Finland protested. "I'm just… just trying to fill a request!"

Sweden raised his other brow. "Oh? Let's see." Sweden snatched the card from Finland's stack.

"Nooo, Sve, don't _look_!" Finland blushed.

"It's _embarrassing you_?" Sve asked. "Really?"

Finland couldn't respond, he just buried his burning face in his hands.

"It's not like someone's asking for a thre—" Sweden paused, reading the note. "…I see."

Finland groaned from behind his hands.

Sweden coughed and folded the card back to its original position. Then he placed it back on Finland's desk.

"Okay."

Finland froze. "…What?"

"We can fuck America." Sweden said.

"Sve." Finland flushed, "must you phrase it so crudely?"

"I can be worse." Sweden smirked a little, enjoying his wife's horrified expression. "America will be our fuck-toy and I'll use him to fuck you and—"

"_ENOUGH_." Finland punched Sweden in the sternum. "God, Sve."

Sweden leaned forward and kissed Finland's forehead. "You set up a date and I'll buy condoms and more lube."

Finland's face continued to burn. "Jesus Christ."

"Do you think America's allergic to latex?"

"I don't fucking know!"

"Just a question."

"I know." Finland took a deep breath and then threw his arms around Sweden in a hug. He buried his face into Sweden's chest.

"Mmpgmajoo." Finland mumbled, but Sweden didn't understand a word.

"What?"

Finland turned his head to the side. "… I love you." He whispered.

"Fin." Sweden replied, wrapping his own arms around Fin's waist. "I love you, too. Sex with America will not change anything."

"Mm."

"It's for fun." Sweden replied, squeezing Finland in a hug. "Just fun."

"Okay." Finland took a deep breath. "Yeah. It'll be kind of hot, right?"

Sve chuckled. "Yes."

So Finland took a seat at his desk to begin a response while Sweden left to go get "supplies," really, Sve. It's not like they'd be having sex with America like, _right now. _Fin rolled his eyes and took out his Christmas stationary.

_Dear America,_

_Your request has been taken under consideration, and in light of recent circumstances it will be fulfilled. When is the most convenient time for you?_

_From, Santa_

Finland mailed the letter off and couldn't help but sigh in anticipation. _Why_ was the thought so sexy? He had no idea. Finland stared off into space, squirming in his chair.

"Boo."

"_Jesus fucking Christ! _" Finland whipped his head around, locking eyes with his smiling husband. "You scared the shit out of me."

"We had enough condoms and lube in the guest room." Sweden showed Finland his loot.

"In the guest room. Right."

"But this is an awful lot of lube." Sweden gestured to the mostly full container. "I think we need quality control."

Finland grinned. "Some experiments? Just to make sure it's up to standards?"

"It would be a shame if it didn't perform." Sweden remarked, pushing his glasses up his nose.

"I think I know just the right test."

"I know the right testers."

"Bedroom?"

"Yes."

* * *

><p>Two days later, America grinned at his letter. He whooped. His Nordic sandwich fantasy would come true!<p>

_**From: The United States of America**_

_**To: Suomen Tasavalta**_

_**Subject: Santa!**_

_Dear Santa,_

_Any time is a good time. Aaaany time. So I'm going to buy a ticket and come to Stockholm right now. Okay? Okaaay? Pick me up at the airport! Finland, don't wear underwear! Sweden, you'll suck me off in the backseat of the car on the ride back to your house while Finland drives without pants on! _

_From, America_

Finland stared at his email, Sweden hovering over his shoulder.

Sweden let out a small huff.

"He's demanding."

"Well," Finland reasoned, "it is his Christmas wish."

"I don't care. You're driving with pants on. It's too cold."

"You can take that up with him."

"I will."

* * *

><p>America was giddy to see the two nations in Stockholm's airport.<p>

He bounced over to them, a mischievous grin on his face. Sweden raised his eyebrows and leaned forward.

"Finland will wear pants because it is cold." He explained. "But if you wish to have your cocked sucked in a cold automobile, I will oblige."

"Is it that cold? Doesn't your car have hea—shit. Shitfuck!" America ran back in the terminal, digging a sweatshirt out of his carry-on. "It's _cold_."

"It's Scandinavia." Finland gently reminded him.

"In December." Sweden said unapologetically. _You moron_ was left unspoken.

"Well," America grinned after putting his jacket back on over his sweatshirt, "I think sex should wait 'til your house."

"Mm." Sweden acknowledged. "Then I'm driving."

"Sve." Finland bumped him. "You always drive."

"I like driving."

"I can drive."

"I know Stockholm better than you."

"Of course you do, that wasn't the point."

"I'll drive. It's not problem."

"That wasn't the point, either." Finland rolled his eyes and decided to pick his battles. "Whatever."

"SHOTGUN!" America roared as Sweden's Volvo came into view.

Finland crawled into the backseat and quietly sent up a prayer because he was absolutely terrified of this entire ordeal. It had the potential to be such a disaster, now that America was talking a hundred miles a minute and Sve was just grunting in response. He hoped that maybe things would be okay. Possibly.

Finland sighed, and saw that Sweden was looking at him through the rear view mirror. Sweden ignored America's babbling in favor of sending Finland a reassuring wink.

And suddenly Finland felt a million times better. It was still sex with Sve, after all, just sex with Sve and someone else at the same time. He could handle that. As long as he kept breathing. That might be a good idea.

* * *

><p>YES. America was SO EXCITED. BECAUSEBECAUSEBECAUSE… <em>sex. With. <em>_**Nordics! **_How could anyone _not_ be excited, right?

He jumped out of the Volvo with enthusiasm. Finland looked kind of nervous, which was completely ridiculous because all he had to do was lay on his back while America fucked him, of course, and Sweden looked all put together and badass and stuff. Which is why Sweden was going to fuck him, because America was just… he just_ knew _that Sweden had a fantastic cock. Sometimes you just have intuition about those sorts of things, and such a strong penis-size intuitive pulse should not be ignored! And such a gift of endowment should not be wasted on a single lover!

So America pulled his reluctant Nordics towards their front door. He waited very impatiently as Sweden inserted the key in the lock (he wanted a different key of Sweden's in his lock, if you know what he meant, right right?)

Sweden_ finally_ got the door open, hallelujah, and America bounced into the house.

"Okay! Finland, take your pants off! Right now!" He demanded.

Finland blinked. "Um, here?" Finland eyed the small entryway with confusion.

"Yes! That's what right now means. Strip." America's hands shot forward, ripping at the button at the top of Finland's jeans.

The smaller nation automatically punched America in the face. America reeled backwards, surprised.

Finland stared at his fist, a bit shocked. But then his face hardened and he glared at America.

"Let me take my pants off at my _own pace, _please."

Sweden rolled his eyes and stepped forward, running a hand over Finland's back. "Why don't you give us a show?"

"A striptease?"

"FUCK YEAH!" Finland's punch didn't quiet America for long. "Do you have a iHome? I brought my iPod and I'll choose some sexy music!"

"I'll go get it." Sweden left America and Finland standing in the entryway.

"Let's move to the living room?" Finland suggested.

"Yes!" America was concentrating on his iPod. "I'm making a playlist. Classic American strip songs. The first one I chose specifically for you, actually. Because of your ass."

Finland sighed as Sweden walked in with their bedroom radio.

"Will this work?"

"Yeah, lemme hook it in… and we're ready to ruuumble!" America grinned, bouncing eagerly on the couch. Sweden sat down next to him, after turning the lights off and letting just the side table lamp illuminate the room.

"Should we start a fire?" Finland asked.

"Stop stalling! Start stripping!" America demanded, pressing the play button.

And Finland blinked, and blushed. "Is this…?"

_Omigod, Becky. Look at her butt. It's so big. She looks like, one of those rap guys' girlfriends. _

Finland stood, jaw open and blush slowing creeping on his face.

"You want me to strip to _Sir Mix-a-lot_?" Finland demanded.

_But, y'know, who understands those rap guys. They only talk to her because she looks like a total prostitute, okay? _

"What's wrong with Sir Mix-a-lot?" America asked. "This song is perfect for your ass. It's like, round. And out there."

_I mean, her butt. It's just so… big. I can't believe it's just so round, it's like, out there. I mean, gross. Look… she's just so, black! _

"Yeah! I LIKE BIGS BUTTS AND I CANNOT LIE!" America fist-pumped.

Sweden made a "go on" motion with his hand, an upturned lip giving away his amusement. Finland couldn't help but blush.

"Hang on, pause it."

America did so with a frown. "What is it now?"

"I'm going to go down a few vodka shots." Finland brushed a hand through his hair as he walked towards the kitchen. "Then I think I'll be okay."

"We'll give you two minutes!" America chirped.

After his shots—okay, more like a glass—Finland was feeling more in the stripper mood.

"Okay." He said, coming back into the living room with the vodka bottle still in his hand. "I'm good"

Sweden gently pried the bottle away from Finland's hand and America fiddled with his iPod.

"That was def. longer than two minutes, but I'll forgive you because you're cute. Ready?"

"Ready!" Finland replied.

"Hit it, baby!"

So Finland let his hands slowly run down the front of his shirt. He had to swing his hips a little, too, because they just decided to move of their own accord like that.

For some reason, this song was really catchy. Finland couldn't help but grin at the ridiculous lyrics—like hell he could be compared to a _black female_, really America—and closed his eyes because he was still feeling a little shy.

And then he shimmied. Where the fuck did that come from? Had he been watching too many ABBA concerts with Sweden? Probably. But Finland turned around and shook his ass and pulled off his shirt and decided that maybe downing an entire glass of vodka at once was a bad idea. Oh well!

He turned back around and let his hands run up his chest, stopping to circle his nipples. Because fuck yeah, he was a sexy Nordic beast! He opened his eyes to see America devouring his movements eagerly and Sweden… Sweden was _blushing_ and if Finland didn't know any better there was a definite bulge in his pants! All right, sexy beast Finland!

He hummed and let his head tilt to the side, popping open the top button of his jeans. He was very pleased to see both America and Sweden's gazes drop to his crotch. Because he was hot, damn it, and they had better appreciate it. His Anaconda don't want none unless he um, he got buns hun? Something like that.

So Finland toed off his shoes and kicked them away and then slowly pulled his jeans down. Unbeknownst to Sweden, he hadn't been wearing underwear to comply with America's request.

He got a wolf-whistle from _Sweden. _Finland couldn't help but chuckle.

America's stupid song was coming to a close, so Finland staggered forward and plopped himself on the couch between America and Sweden.

"It's not fair that I'm the only naked one." Finland complained. "So I think you two should do a striptease too."

America grinned. "Nah. You're the only naked one we need."

Then he leaned forward and smashed his lips to Finland's own.

It was… _weird, _because Finland had never kissed anyone but Sweden and Sve's lips were thin and powerful and smooth and America's lips were slobbery and devouring, as if Finland was some kind of happy meal from McDonald's that America had been waiting for. It wasn't a bad kiss, it just wasn't a good kiss. No, fuck that, it was a pretty god-awful kiss. Finland wiggled backwards, away from America's onslaught, and ended up pretty much sitting in Sweden's lap. He glanced up to catch Sweden's eyes, which were looking at him with _amusement, _damn him. Finland's eyebrows furrowed and he tried to stick out his tongue but forgot that he was kissing America and when he opened his mouth America took that as an invitation for perhaps the _worst_ French kissing Finland had ever experienced ever.

Sloppy and America's breath was awful and spit seemed to be _everywhere_ and while that was usually okay—fucking fuck that much spit shouldn't leak out of a person's mouth all at once, holy shit!

And then Sweden had the audacity to _chuckle_, damn him, so Finland reached underneath himself and squeezed Sweden's dick in retaliation.

Okay, actually, that was crap retaliation because Sweden _liked_ when Finland touched his dick. Damn.

Before Finland could respond, America pulled away and grinned sheepishly.

"I'm kind of a messy kisser." He shrugged.

"No kidding." Finland wanted to say—oh shit, did he actually say that?

Fortunately America laughed it off. Sweden pinched his butt, though, but Sve was forgetting that Finland actually kind of liked it when Sve did that.

"Let's have sex now." America decided unanimously. "I think that'd be great. How should we do this?" America stared at the couch, pondering.

Finland shuddered and reached for the lube. He squeezed a dollop on his fingers and propped himself up to straddle above Sweden's thighs. Then he gently pressed a finger inside his anus. He sighed, and then squeaked when he felt a kiss pressed to his shoulder blade.

Oh, right. Sve was behind him. Well, Sve was probably enjoying the show.

America went on a rant about positions and furniture and placement and Finland concentrated on stretching himself, moaning and working his body up and down on his finger, Sve's hands hold his hips steady as he wriggled. And then Finland heard a squirt and got another kiss and one of Sweden's fingers was pressing into him alongside the two already there. Finland moaned, perhaps a bit wantonly, and America's attention was brought back to the matter at hand.

"You guys got started without me!" America bitched. "Not fair!"

Finland ignored him. That wasn't very nice, per se, but Sve's finger was doing _absolutely awesome shit_ to his prostate, okay? America was not important in comparison. Sve knew _exactly_ how Finland liked it, the fucker. (Or more aptly, really attentive husband.)

_Good? _Sve traced against Finland's hip with his free hand.

"Yes it's good!" Finland grit out, shivering against his will.

"Okay! Finland is ready!" America chirped. "I want to fuck him now."

"Condom." Sweden demanded, tossing a square packet his direction.

"Aw, fuck. Really?" America whined.

Finland wasn't paying attention (the damn _finger,_ remember!) but the next time he was coherent America was naked and had begrudgingly donned his condom.

Sve removed his finger and Finland whined, but Sweden gave him a pat on the butt and rolled him to his stomach. Finland blinked up at him, but Sweden's eyes told him to stay where he was. Sweden grabbed the two throw pillows and Finland tucked them under his hips.

"Comfortable?" Sweden asked, because he was considerate like that while America and America Jr. were bouncing around in excitement behind him.

"Yeah." Finland breathed.

"Stay there." Finland recognized an order when he heard it.

"Can I fuck him now?" America asked. "Pleeease?"

"I need to stretch you." Sweden replied, wiggling the fingers on his clean hand.

America pouted.

Finland heard more lube being squeezed and America begin to moan, but honestly it was torture to have his face pressed against the couch and to have to wait with his ass in the air. It was a little embarrassing, but probably only Sve would remember it. And Finland was okay with that.

After a few minutes of waiting, Finland felt America and Sweden line up behind him.

"Ready?" Finland asked, wiggling his butt anxiously.

"Fuck yeah." America replied, letting his penis run teasingly between Finland's cheeks before lining up with Finland's hole.

America and Sweden must have done the same thing, because Sweden barked an order that Finland couldn't hear and all of a sudden Finland was full of America.

America curved a different way, Finland immediately realized. Usually, when he and Sve had sex, to get his prostate each stroke they had to be facing each other. But America's penis was curved upwards and was tortuously dragging across Finland's spot _every damn time. _

"Oh god." Finland cried.

"I'm good!" America replied breathlessly. Arrogantly.

Finland just laughed because Sweden had known and set them up this way on purpose, the bastard, because he wanted Finland to feel good. And Finland knew he was right when he felt Sve lightly brush a finger against his ankle.

It did feel good—America was certainly enthusiastic and made ridiculously jokes the whole time and Finland couldn't help but relax and enjoy himself.

* * *

><p>"Thanks." America grinned, spent and very satisfied after two rounds of fucking.<p>

"Merry Christmas." A sleepy Finland replied, head tucked under Sweden's chin.

"Guest room is down the hall." Sweden replied, gesturing towards a hallway. "There's a bathroom, too."

Sweden nodded at America politely and wrapped his wife in a blanket before scooping him up and carrying him away.

America watched them leave with a smirk. He dug through his clothes and pulled out his iPhone.

Facebook time!

**Alfred F. Jones**_ just had sex with Sweden and Finland! Boo-yah!_

**Arthur Kirkland**_ … what_

**THEREISALOVELYLAND**_ likes this. _

**THEREISALOVELYLAND**_ GET IT, USA._

**Francis Bonnefoy**_ No fair! :( _

**Francis Bonnefoy**_ likes this. _

**FIVEMETERS**_ likes this. _

**Antonio Fernandez**_ likes this. _

**Matthew Williams**_ I don't even know_

* * *

><p>AN: I echo Mattie: I don't even know. In case you're wondering, "There is a lovely land" is Denmark (it's the national anthem.)


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